


only guessing until i get there

by n00blici0us



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 03:40:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n00blici0us/pseuds/n00blici0us
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane wants to figure out why Cho looks so tired today. For the prompt mystery on my Mentalist prompt table</p>
            </blockquote>





	only guessing until i get there

“Wow,” said Jane, coming to stand by Cho’s desk, his usual cup of morning tea in his hand. “Rough night last night?”

“Something like that,” Cho muttered, searching for his coffee cup.

“It’s under that stack of files,” Jane said, gesturing slightly with his teacup.

Cho shuffled past the files and grabbed his cup, making a beeline for the coffee machine in the kitchen. Jane, unsurprisingly, followed him. As Cho took his first sip from his steaming mug, he could feel Jane eyeing him speculatively. “Stop it,” he said, walking back to his desk.

“I’m just trying to figure it out, that’s all.” Jane took another healthy slurp of his tea, then continued. “It doesn’t look like a new girlfriend—“

“Cho has a new girlfriend?” Rigsby entered the bullpen, having caught the last of Jane’s statement. “My man!” He held his hand up for a high-five.

“No,” Cho shook his head at him, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Rigsby sheepishly dropped his hand at Cho’s look.

“No, his coffee consumption is way too high for that. Plus, his posture would be slightly more relaxed, you know from…” Here Jane trailed off and nudged Rigsby in the ribs, exchanging a few meaningful eyebrow waggles at him.

“Jane, go away,” Cho said, turning back to his monitor and resolutely ignoring both Jane and Rigsby. It was going to be a long day.

By lunch Rigsby had become concerned with more pressing matters, like what the special for the day at the deli down the street was, but Jane hadn’t given up. “You know I’ll just figure it out anyway. Why not just tell me?” he asked as they stood in line at the hot dog stand.

“Two please, one with everything on it,” Cho said, handing the vendor some bills. He handed one to Jane and took his hot dog and headed to his car.

“You’re not coming back to the office?” Jane asked, his own hot dog clutched firmly in his hand.

“Lisbon wants me to interview a witness,” he said around a mouthful of sauerkraut. He might have walked a little quicker than usual to his car, but that was only because it was an important witness, not because he wanted to get away from Jane’s questions.

“Is it a new mattress?” Jane caught up to him as he was manhandling the arrested suspect—formerly the witness—into interrogation room 2.

“No,” he said, shoving the suspect into a chair. He hated having to run after and tackle suspects.

“There’s a breaking in period!” Jane called as Cho shut the door in his face. “Don’t give up yet!”

When Cho came back down at his desk, finished with his interrogation, Jane was there too, perched on the edge of the desk, rifling through his calendar. “What does S.221 mean?”

“What?” Cho said, sprawling into his chair, sitting back, ready to indulge Jane’s questions.

“Well, it’s written here under last night, small print, secretive. You blocked off a good portion of your night for it.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious; you know that. Leave no stone unturned and all that.”

“Just something I indulge in every once in a while.”

“Indulge? I was pretty sure that you don’t indulge in things.”

Cho leveled a look at Jane. “I think you know that that’s not true.”

“Point,” Jane said. “It’s not a regularly recurring event though.”

Cho reached for the file resting under Jane’s thigh and tugged it out gently. “Not regularly, intermittently.” He opened the file and turned his attention to it.

“How intermittent?”

Without looking up, Cho said, “I think that’s enough, Jane.”

“I’m only just getting started,” Jane protested.

“Jane.”

“Cho.”

“Jane.”

“Fine. But don’t think this is the end.”

Cho just lifted a hand in acknowledgement as Jane hopped off his perch and went to the kitchen to get a cup of tea and sulk over his dismissal.

By the time Cho stretched and put the last of the paperwork away, the night janitors had just finished their rounds. Cho vaguely remembered Lisbon and the others leaving—Lisbon had admonished him not to stay too long but he hadn’t quite been ready yet to face his empty apartment and a box of takeout so he’d kept on working. Rigsby and Van Pelt had left whispering to each other, discreetly giggling. And Jane, well Jane was still there, lying on his couch, one arm flung over his eyes. Cho stood up and clicked off the light on his desk. As he gathered up his jacket, Jane’s voice floated over from the couch.

“I got you something.”

“Not another watch, I hope,” Cho said, shrugging into his jacket and crossing the room to stand next to Jane.

“Slightly more tasteful than that. I hope.” Jane kept his eyes closed but pointed imperiously to his desk. A slim brown package lay in the middle of the desk with the word CHO written simply on it. A book, most likely then.

Cho picked it up, slid his finger under the flap and neatly broke open the tape. He gently slid the book out from the packaging and—

THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

He ran his fingers over the embossed title, “Figured it out, did you?”

Jane chuckled, a low, soft sound that was swallowed by the darkness in the office. “Elementary, my dear Watson. Though I rather think last night was focused more on the BBC version than this one.”

“Thanks,” Cho said, hands still lingering on the book.

“Good night, Cho,” Jane said, turning toward the couch cushions, voice growing sleepier and quieter.

“Good night, Jane,” Cho answered, walking toward the elevator. He paused when he reached the edge of the bullpen, “Jane.”

“Mmm,” came the muffled reply.

“You can come next time, if you promise not to make fun of Sherlock.”

“Looking forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is partly just me squeeing over the latest Sherlock and me trying to get creative juices flowing for this year.


End file.
